


A Cure for Hiccups

by buttons_n_bose



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Hiccups, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Sexual Content, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 08:30:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttons_n_bose/pseuds/buttons_n_bose
Summary: John isn't convinced when Sherlock suggests a "scientifically-proven" cure for hiccups...but at this point, he'll try anything.





	A Cure for Hiccups

**Author's Note:**

> my friend sent me some tweet that was like "yeah apparently sex cures hiccups" and she was like "haha this is the new fanfic trope" and then i wrote this during 2am crackhead hours. i haven't written anything in months. can you believe Johnlock cured my writer's block

“I’m not doing that.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “It’s scientifically proven fact, that-“

“Science or n-no, I’m not-” John realized his voice had risen and desperately tried to bring it back down. Agitation only made the hiccups worse. “I’m not fi-inding Mary to help me with m-my hiccups.”

“Why not? It’s perfectly reasonable, and you’ve tried everything else. Water. Concentration. A compilation of predictable jump-scares. Hopped around in your incessant little circles.”

“Because it’s emba-arrassing, Sherlock,” John hissed.

Sherlock didn’t even look up from his newspaper, though he was only using it as a buffer. “How so?”

John leaned forwards against the back of his chair, knuckles white against the leather fabric and elbows locked under his weight. Sherlock was an absolute genius, and also the dumbest bastard John had ever met. “Because we bro-oke up.”

“I know.”

“Of course y-you know,” John muttered, mostly to himself. “Ba-astard.”

Sherlock smirked, stealing a glance over his paper. John was staring determinedly into the seat of his own chair. “So, you’re not-“

“I’m not calling Mary, n-no,” John interrupted.

“Okay.”

There was a long pause, long enough for Sherlock to turn the page and prepare to turn the next. John had moved to sit in his chair, running his finger over a dent Moriarty had carved in the side table during his last visit.

“Is it r-really scientifically proven?” John asked.

“Mhm.” Sherlock sounded bored, but that was hardly anything new. “Studies show that the stimulus in that particular nerve is enough to distract your brain from the hiccups, essentially curing you of them.”

“Not me, pers-sonally.”

“No, of course not.”

Another pause.

“Sounds like bu-ullocks to me.”

“Hm?”

“I said, it s-sounds like bullocks,” John repeated, though Sherlock had heard him the first time. “There’s no w-way sex is a cure for hiccups.”

“Sex to orgasm,” Sherlock corrected in a monotone, turning the page of his newspaper.

“Yes. That.” John cleared his throat, ignoring the blush creeping in his cheeks, which did not go unnoticed by Sherlock.

“John?”

“What?”

“Did you and Mary really break up?”

“Yes.”

“Properly, this time?”

“Yes.” John doubted they would give their relationship a third chance, certainly not when the reason for their separation was the same both times. He tried to pass it off as work that kept him busy, but Mary knew it wasn’t the grisly murders that had John coming back each day.

“I’m sorry to hear it,” said Sherlock, and John could have sworn the detective sounded sincere.

“Right, w-well.” John cleared his throat again. If only the hiccups would stop. “I’m all out o-of ideas.”

Sherlock paused mid-turn, holding the paper practically closed. “So you’ll give mine a shot, then?”

“N-no.”

“Pity. I might have to find a new flatmate if you don’t sort it out soon. I can barely hear myself think.”

John glared at Sherlock, silent hiccups keeping him from sitting still. He muttered broken curse words under his interrupted breaths, which Sherlock found much more amusing than the article he was reading.

“You like e-experiments, don’t you?”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, quite.”

“With your thumbs a-and whatnots in the kitchen.”

“Particularly the whatnots.”

John took a deep breath. In…out. In…hiccup. “Damn!”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“In the m-mood for an experiment, then?” John asked, rushing to get the words out before he was interrupted by another hiccup.

“Perhaps.”

“I’ll be upstairs.” Praying to the God he’d long stopped believing in that he hadn’t misread Sherlock’s already-impossible-to-read signs, he walked determinedly up the stairs.

Sherlock stayed in his chair for only a few moments before following, already undoing his tie.


End file.
